


Voltron and the Defenders of Tomorrow

by rennywrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Defenders of Tomorrow AU, Except everyone's got different names because this is a leakira AU baby, Leakira au, M/M, Voltron au, some strong language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-20 11:50:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rennywrites/pseuds/rennywrites
Summary: Like so many others before it, this story begins with a falling star.As a new age dawns on the city of New Arusia, a group of six remarkable strangers must come together in order to execute a daring plan to save their world — and to save each other.





	1. Foreword

 Like so many others before it, this story begins with a falling star.

 

Or rather, a falling star that separates into five distinct, _other_ falling stars, as the original pierces the upper boundaries of Earth’s atmosphere.

Five silvery points of light plunge silently through the stratosphere, falling in perfect formation before the jet streams tear them violently from each other and scatter them across the night sky.

One streaks over Cárdenas, reflected in the moonlit waters of Varadero Beach.  A boy sits back on his surfboard, shivering as the cool sea water meets the bare skin of his legs, and tilts his face up to stare at the starry night sky.

One is framed in the window of a Dallas suburb for just a fraction of a second — enough time for a girl to look up from her computer, then bolt over to her windowsill and squint out into the darkness beyond it.  She sticks her head out the window and ignores the chilly air, waiting for her eyes to adjust from the bright blue glow of her laptop screen.

One darts low across the horizon of the Vallejo night sky, catching the discerning eye of a boy who is up late working in his garage.  He ducks out from beneath the hood of his sister’s car, wiping the sweat from his brow and smearing a generous amount of grease across his forehead as he looks out over the bay.

One flies over the city of New Arusia, where the lights are so bright that only a few people catch a glimpse of it as it passes by.  A boy looks up just in the nick of time to see it as its light glints faintly across the worn tin roof of the Galaxy Garrison. He brushes his hair out of his eyes and pauses in his descent down a rope of knotted bedsheets to stare at the spectacle as it travels overhead.

And one passes over a barren desert, where there is no one left to witness its fall.  The only person who could is trapped deep beneath the ground.

 

The sound of groaning metal reverberates around an empty chamber as a captive strains against his shackles.  Every passing thought that isn’t occupied by plans of escape is an endless parade of painfully familiar faces: a laundry list of people who he cannot afford to let down.

Each calculated yank against his chains is fueled by a single, clear memory of home.   _This_ one is for starry nights and familiar constellations.   _This_ one is for the comforting feeling of wind against his skin.  He’s been in hopeless situations before; this isn’t the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.   

He plans to get out of this place.  He plans to survive.

 

* * *

 

Adventures are not instantaneous endeavors.

The five mysterious lights that fell from the sky fade away into memory, no different than a remarkable sunset or fond recollections of a summer day.  Life proceeds as usual. In fact, an entire year passes before fate intervenes in _just_ the right way to set this particular adventure into motion.

But it is important to me that you know that the story of Voltron and the Defenders of Tomorrow began with a single falling star.  And now, their names will be etched into the fabric of the universe.

 

— R.A.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this back when season 7 aired, but the things that went down in season 8 really gave me the push I needed to start working on it in earnest. I'll always be grateful to the show for putting these wonderful characters out into the world, but I'm really excited to dive into this super neat AU (created by captainlumin on tumblr, who is an amazing artist and just all-around very creative person).


	2. King of the Lamppost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A subpar day of training at the Galaxy Garrison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Evelyn" by Gregory Alan Isakov.

Leandro Martinez enjoys a few things about the Galaxy Garrison.  Hand-to-hand combat training is not one of those things.

He stumbles backward, ducking clumsily out of the way of his opponent’s staff and then failing to dodge a painfully solid roundhouse kick to the ribs.  The air leaves his lungs in a rush as he crumples backward and skids across the ground so hard that he’s sure his torso leaves a trail of flames in its wake.

This is the fifth time he’s ended up on the mat today, and he’s becoming intimately familiar with the scent of sweaty plastic and humiliation.  He’s also dimly aware of people shouting in the background — he hears his name and immediately recognizes the dulcet tones of Commander Iverson’s operatic bellowing — but opts instead to press his face into the polyethylene flooring and pointedly ignore all of them.

From his less-than-ideal vantage point of facedown on the mat, Leandro hears the familiar, sickening thud of solid wood connecting with human flesh.  Someone lets out a startled yelp from the general vicinity of right above him, and he has the presence of mind to roll to his left as hard as he can.

Not two seconds later, a body lands heavily on the mat right beside him.  Leandro peels his face off the floor to peer over and observe the weary grimace of his best friend Manuia Gardner, who is now sprawled in the place where he’d been just moments before.  Manny is rubbing his right elbow gingerly, and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else at the moment.

Leandro rolls onto his side and tucks one arm lazily behind his head, in a position reminiscent of a slightly ridiculous pinup pose.  “How’s it going,” he asks in the most unenthusiastic tone of voice he can muster.

Manny lets out the longest sigh that Leandro has ever heard, letting himself somehow sink even deeper into the mat.

“I’m an engineer, not a fighter,” his friend says forlornly.  “I’m good at _fixing_ things.  So I guess I just don’t really see the point in me doing this?”

“Practicing percussive maintenance?” Leandro suggests.

Manny looks glumly down at his bruised elbow. “That only works if _I’m_ hitting the equipment, not the other way around.”

Leandro really hopes that the third member of their team is having slightly better luck than the two of them: not that Piper isn’t _also_ rubbish at combat training, but at least they’re smaller and quicker and much harder to hit.

“Martinez!  Gardner! On your feet!”

Iverson’s shouting has finally become too loud to ignore.  Leandro scrambles back up to his feet, and extends a hand to help Manny up as well.

“If they’d let us practice _ranged_ instead of hand-to-hand all the time…” he mutters the complaint just loudly enough so that his friend can hear him, but a well-timed staff strike from one of their opponents sends them diving in opposite directions and cuts off any further discussion.

Leandro catches the faint sound of movement behind him and quickly spins around to face its source.  A combination of luck and a lifetime of dealing with sneaky younger siblings means that he just barely manages to dodge the weapon of the cadet behind him, feeling it graze the side of his shoulder as he ducks out of the way.  He slips to the right to avoid a right-hand strike, then to the left, then throws himself back to the right again, as the expression on his opponent’s face grows more and more frustrated with every missed attack.  They step back and raise their staff over their head for an overhead strike — their face is so red that it reminds Leandro uncannily of a ripe tomato — but this one is slightly rushed, just a tiny bit less precise than the others.  It’s exactly the opening that he needs.

He sidesteps the weapon as it arcs down through the air towards him.  At the exact moment when the end of the staff connects with the floor, Leandro brings his elbow down on the other end with all the force he can muster.

With a deafening clatter, he knocks the weapon cleanly out of his opponent’s hands.  A look of complete surprise flashes across their face.

“Ha!”  Leandro crows, and then punches them in the nose.

It’s not the most technically solid punch in the world, and he grimaces a little as pain blooms across his knuckles, but the cadet stumbles backward, clutching their face in their hands.

One of the other members of the opposing team turns toward him, brandishing her staff menacingly.  Leandro grins sheepishly and shoots the girl a pair of finger guns as he quickly backs away from her — and runs directly into the third member of his own team, all five feet and four inches of one irate Piper Gunderson.

“Watch it!” they say, and then whip around to jam their weapon into the ribs of the final member of the opposing team, who lets out an indignant yelp.

“Sorry Pipes,” he replies, as he watches Manny take a swing at the other cadet and miss completely.  “Any ideas on how we can possibly win this thing?”

Piper seems slightly preoccupied with repeatedly poking their opponent with the end of their stick.  “None of us are good enough to beat them in a one-on-one fight,” they point out with a healthy dose of their usual pragmatism.  Leandro opens his mouth to argue, but Piper barrels on before he gets the chance. “But on the other hand, their group cohesion is the shittiest thing I’ve ever seen.  After they finished splitting up to take out you and Manny, the three of them working together weren’t able to hit me _once_ —” they shoot an unimpressed look at the cadet on the other end of their staff before lowering their voice again “—because they kept missing me and hitting each other.”

At this point, Piper’s opponent manages to slip around the end of their weapon and pivots forward to aim a vengeful roundhouse kick at their face.  Without thinking, Leandro darts around his friend and just barely manages to block the blow with his right forearm, catching it inelegantly before it can connect with Piper’s temple.  

“Ow,” he squeaks, as white-hot pain explodes up the length of his arm.

Piper pushes past him with an incoherent yell of anger, shifting forward into a low crouch and then swinging their staff at their opponent’s legs like a baseball bat.  The resultant crack makes Leandro wince; he’s not sure if the sound is from the wooden staff splintering upon contact, or from the cadet’s shins as Piper’s weapon meets them.  Either way, the guy plows face first into the mat with a high-pitched shriek of pain.

Piper keeps their staff at the ready, but glances back at him with a worried expression.  “Shit, that looked bad. Are you okay?”

Leandro forces himself to let go of his throbbing forearm.  “I’m good, _chaparrito_ ,” he replies, a lot more confidently than he feels.  “Nice shot. But back to what you were saying… so, if we can get them to group up so that they can’t take us out one-on-one, then we might be able to trip them up and pull this off?”

“More or less.  It’s not great, but it’s a plan.”  Piper redirects Leandro’s attention as they raise their staff menacingly in the direction of the cadet that he’d punched earlier, who has finally regained their bearings and is now advancing on them, looking _really_ pissed off.  “I think I’ve got that one covered.  You should go let Manny know what’s going on.”

“Roger that, Pipes.”  He claps an encouraging hand onto his teammate’s shoulder, tosses a wink at the fuming cadet, and then he and Piper take off in opposite directions.

“Incoming to your left!”  He shouts as he sprints toward Manny and the girl he’s engaged in combat with.  Manny instinctively steps to the right, and a look of confusion crosses the cadet’s face just before Leandro rockets past him and slams into her shoulder-first, knocking her forcefully backward.

“Watch it, Martinez!”  he hears Iverson yell as Manny grabs his arm, catching him before he faceplants into the mat and helping him regain his balance.  

“Did Piper have a plan?”  Manny whispers nervously, keeping his gaze trained on their opponent.

“Yeah, sort of.  Apparently they don’t work well together, so the plan is to drive them all into one big group so that they’ll trip each other up.”

Manny risks a doubtful glance at him, then sneaks another one over at Piper.  “That seems… a lot easier said than done.”

Leandro turns, alarmed, to see Piper struggling against their opponent.  They dodge and duck around them to get in a couple good blows to their back and shoulders, but the other cadet tanks them all and then answers with a spinning strike that nearly knocks Piper’s staff out of their hands as they sloppily try to block it.

“Shit,” Leandro mutters, and then yelps as his and Manny’s opponent lands a glancing blow to his elbow.  He realizes that his friend managed to intercept the weapon so that it hadn’t hit him squarely in the side of the neck, and heaves a sigh that’s equal parts relief and gratitude as Manny moves to stand between him and the other cadet.  “Thanks, Man.”

“No problem, buddy.  But how are we going to help Piper? Things look pretty bad over there.”

Leandro shifts his weight nervously from foot to foot, tightening his grip on his staff as he racks his brain for some kind of a plan.  

He’s pretty sure that Manny — despite his nigh inhuman stamina — isn’t quick enough to land a hit on this girl, so he doesn’t want to just ditch him here to go help Piper.  But he can’t be in two places at once, and since the Garrison _apparently_ has some sort of rule against letting cadets use ranged weapons during training…

Leandro’s creeping indignation slowly trails off into a single spark of inspiration as he looks down at the staff in his hands.  Then he glances over at Piper’s opponent, then at the staff again, then repeatedly back and forth as he whips quick estimations of mass, distance, and trajectory into the barest beginnings of an idea.  

“Manny!”

“Busy!” his friend grunts back, and Leandro hears the unmistakable sound of a wooden staff making contact with skin.

“I need you to break my staff!”

“You need me to do _what_ now?”

“My staff!  Break it! Would you be able to do that?”

“I… mean yeah, I guess I could?  But why would you need me to—”

Out of the corner of his eye, Leandro sees the cadet whose shins Piper had murdered earlier struggling to climb to his feet.  “Shit!” he repeats emphatically. “Hold on—” he shoves his own weapon into his friend’s right hand and yanks Manny’s out of his left, dodging around him to swing it at their opponent.  Unfortunately, Manny’s staff is way too heavy for him, so he misses completely and just barely staggers out of the way of the answering blow, wincing as his injured forearm throbs. “Just break it!”

“Why?!”

“Because if I have something smaller and easier to throw, then I can hit that shithead from here!  That would give Piper enough of an opening to take them out temporarily, at least.”

Manny makes a doubtful sound in the back of his throat as Leandro clumsily blocks another strike from his opponent.  “Are you sure, dude? If you miss, you might hit Piper. Not to mention the fact that Iverson’s gonna get super upset, because ‘destruction of government property’ and all that.”

“Do you have another plan?”  Leandro pants, trying to get a firmer grip on his weapon.  “Because I’ve got nothing. And _yes_ , I can hit him.  I’m sure of it!”

“Are you  _completely_ sure—”

“I’m _sure_ sure!  Plus, if that other guy remembers how the fuck to walk again before Piper gets the situation under control, then we’re completely screwed. _Palos porque bogas y palos porque no bogas_ dude, just do it!”

Evidently he’s made a persuasive enough argument, because Leandro hears the sharp _crack_ of wood splintering from behind him.  He does his best to ignore the resultant gasps that go up from the cadets who are watching the fight.

“Over and under!” Manny says urgently.  Leandro lets go of Manny’s staff and drops to the mat, shoving himself backward as he ducks through his friend’s legs.  He catches the two splintered pieces of his weapon as Manny drops them, and then grins as his friend steps forward to effortlessly snatch back his staff out of mid-air.

“Perfected that one back in little league,” Manny states proudly, then swings his weapon at the other cadet.

Leandro re-adjusts his grip on the shorter section of the shattered staff, making sure there are no outstanding sharp edges, and then takes aim at the guy harassing Piper.  The weight is decidedly different compared to the old, warped kitchen utensils that he and Veronica used to practice throwing in their backyard, but he’s sure that he can modify the trajectory enough to make it work.  Almost sure, at least.

“Martinez, don’t you _dare_ —”  Iverson’s bellowed warning comes just as Leandro flicks his wrist and lets his makeshift projectile fly.  

It leaves his hand in one fluid motion, dancing through the air like an impossible arrow.  The fractured weapon just barely clips the side of Piper’s cropped hair, skimming past their head to smack their opponent squarely in the face.

The cadet yelps in pain and staggers backward, clutching their face and spitting a stream of words that Leandro is too far away to hear — but judging from the look of glee on Piper’s face, it must be pretty bad.

Piper slices their staff diagonally through the air and cracks it into their opponent’s knees, since shin destruction apparently wasn’t a high enough goal for them.  The cadet’s muttering escalates into full-on yelling — now Leandro can hear the nonstop stream of expletives just fine — and they stumble sideways.

Piper turns around to face the other cadet, still grinning like a Cheshire cat, but Leandro watches in horror as the first cadet somehow regains their footing and reaches toward Piper with a downright murderous look on their face.

Before Leandro can shout a warning, the cadet seizes Piper’s hair in their grip and _yanks_.  He watches Piper clap one hand over their mouth to stifle a yelp of pain as the cadet begins viciously dragging them backward by their hair, raising their weapon menacingly over their head.

Leandro has never been good at hand-to-hand combat.  What he _is_ decent at, though, is wrestling.

He’s halfway across the room and bringing the splintered end of his staff down on the cadet’s wrist before Manny has the chance to reach out and stop him.  They release Piper, only managing to get out a strangled shout of surprise before Leandro full-body tackles them to the ground.

Adrenaline completely blots out the pain as he lands one solid punch to the other cadet’s face, then pins them to the mat as they rain violent, indiscriminate blows upon his head and torso.

He can hear people shouting distantly in the background. Several pairs of arms grab roughly at his arms and waist and pull him off of the other cadet, who remains flat on their back, breathing harshly with blood pouring out of one side of their nose.

“Martinez!” Iverson’s voice hollers from somewhere in the vicinity of directly next to his ear, making him flinch. “My office, now!”

The world spins slightly around him as he feels people grab his arms — he’s not sure if they’re dragging him or helping him — and lead him away from the gathering crowd, through the training room doors.  

He recalls the fact that Iverson’s office is all the way down the hall, but it only feels like a few seconds before he’s shoved roughly into an uncomfortable military-issue folding chair.  As the door swings shut behind him, Leandro raises his hand and runs his fingers gingerly through the shaved sides of his hair. He winces as he touches a tender spot; the other cadet must have managed to hit him in the head at some point during the melee, and he can feel a splitting headache coming on.

The door behind him suddenly slams open, making him jump.  Then someone lifts him clear out of his chair and he finds himself face to face with Manny, who looks _beyond_ concerned.  He can see Piper jumping up and down in his periphery as well, but Leandro is busy processing the fact that his feet are currently dangling uselessly a full foot above the ground.  “Hey guys—”

“Are you okay?  Are you _hurt_?  Is that blood?!  Oh god, that’s blood.”  Manny begins inspecting him frantically, looking for more injuries.  Leandro touches his tongue to the corner of his mouth and tastes metal.  Oops.

“I’m fine, dude.  Just a scratch.”

Piper is still jumping up and down, trying unsuccessfully to make disapproving eye contact with him.  “What was that?!”  they ask.  “We had a plan!  Why on Earth would you—”

They’re interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open yet again.  Manny quickly sets him back onto solid ground, but Leandro only has a second to be relieved before the three of them snap to attention as Iverson steps into the room.

“Sit,” he orders tersely, and before their backs have even touched the chairs, he’s standing behind his desk glaring daggers at the three of them.  “What. Was. _That_.”

The room is silent for several seconds.  Leandro opens his mouth to speak, but Iverson vehemently motions for him to keep it shut.  “I’ll tell you what that was — that was a _disgrace_ .  You destroyed government property.  You _tackled_ another cadet to the ground and punched them in the face.”

“Sir, with all due respect,”  Piper says hesitantly, “Members of the other team were fighting unfairly. The Garrison has rules regarding use of excessive force during training, and one of them was dragging me by the hair, Leandro was just trying to help—”

“Don’t think I didn’t see _you_ fighting dirty, Cadet Gunderson,” Iverson rounds on Piper.  “Hitting people in the shins? Really?”

“It’s not _excessive_ ,”  Piper protests, before apparently thinking better of it and dropping their gaze to their shoes.

“It’s _cheap_ ,” Iverson growls, and then turns his attention back to Leandro.  “ You.  Do I need to remind you that the only reason you’re here is because the best pilot in your class got dishonorably discharged?”

Leandro can’t keep himself from wincing at Iverson’s words.  Manny looks like he’s about to say something, but Leandro sees Piper elbow him stealthily in the side before he can get the words out.  They shoot him an apologetic glance, and Leandro pulls himself together to respond with a discreet shrug wrapped in a flimsy veneer of nonchalance.

“No sir,” he responds in a carefully measured voice.

“Then don’t follow in his footsteps.”

“Yes sir.”

Iverson nods once, apparently somewhat mollified.  He heaves one last disgruntled sigh and takes a seat behind his desk.  “All three of you are on cleaning duty this weekend. Now, get out of my office.”

Although Piper is openly glowering at the commander, no one says anything more.  The three of them stand, salute, and then file dejectedly out of the room.

“It could be worse, guys.”  Manny tries his best to rally everyone’s spirits as they slouch defeatedly in the hallway.  “Cleaning duty isn’t _all_ that bad.”

This elicits groans from both Leandro and Piper.

“Last time we were on cleaning duty, the soap they used gave me rashes for _weeks_ ,” Piper complains.

“I hear that,” Leandro agrees, rubbing absentmindedly at the bruise on his forearm.  He quickly drops his hand back to his side when he catches Manny staring worriedly at him.

“Are you okay, Leo?”  His friend asks. “Do you want to head by the medical wing and get checked out?”

He quickly shakes his head.  “I’m good, dude.”

“I could get you some food or something?  Or an ice pack, or some—”

“ _Man_ , I’m fine,” Leandro laughs.  “I’m just going to head up to my room and de-stress before dinner.   _Es hora de la hueva_ , y’know?”

Neither Manny nor Piper look entirely convinced, which Leandro takes as his cue to leave.  He shoots them both a pair of finger guns as he backs away down the hall. “See you then!” he calls, then quickly disappears around the corner.

 

Leandro climbs the four flights of stairs to his dorm room in complete silence, strategically avoiding the sounds of both footsteps and voices as he travels.  He fumbles absently around in his pockets for several seconds until he finds his keys, then unlocks his door and steps inside just in time for the light of the setting sun to begin pouring in through the window.

He walks across his room to the fridge, kicking aside a few of the textbooks blocking his path, and admires the magnificent view of the New Arusian skyline through the glass.  Everything is washed out in a golden tide of light that makes the world feel artificially peaceful; plus, it makes the sea of paper scattered across his floor seem slightly more tolerable.

Leandro kneels next to the fridge and rummages around for a couple of ice packs, being careful not to disturb the Jenga-like towers of frozen food packages that obstruct his path.  Then he shuts the fridge and throws himself onto the space-patterned covers of his dorm bed, wincing as he lands.

He rolls over gingerly and stares up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling as he carefully balances his collection of ice packs across his body: one against his head, one on his forearm, and one across his ribcage, where he can feel new bruises blooming by the second.  

Leandro closes his eyes and gradually lets the throbbing pain in his body familiarize to a dull, empty ache.  As he does so, however, he can feel Iverson's furious words rising unbidden to the back of his mind; churning silently and angrily, despite his best efforts to shut them away.

Seventeen years.  Seventeen long years of coming up short.  Of being someone else’s replacement. Of icing bruises that he wears like badges of honor.

“Fuck!” He slams his fist against the concrete wall next to his bed, biting back a slightly strangled hiss of pain.  Then he sighs and leans back against his pillow, carefully replacing the ice packs that he’d dislodged from his body.  Carefully, so as not to disturb them again, he turns his head to gaze at the sunbeams filtering lazily through the air just past his bedposts.

Leandro reaches out and runs his hand slowly through the light, watching as the time of day slips away between his fingers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this universe, Lance McClain is Leandro Martinez, Hunk Garrett is Manuia "Manny" Gardner, and Pidge Holt is Piper Gunderson (at least for now). More characters will show up by the end of the next chapter, I promise.
> 
> Also: I am not a native Spanish speaker. If I screw up any of the translations or there is a more accurate translation that I should be using, please let me know.


	3. Following the Neon Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three cadets Grand Theft Auto their way out of the Galaxy Garrison and run into some new old acquaintances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Midnight City" by M83.

Meals at the Garrison are usually a fairly lighthearted affair, full of amiable background chatter and the occasional food fight.  Today, however, Leandro can feel a strange kind of tension hanging heavy in the air as soon as he pushes open the cafeteria doors.

He heads to the counter and spoons some food onto his plate, carefully avoiding eye contact with the other cadets around him, until he finally makes it across the room and sets his tray down opposite Manny and Piper.  He swings his legs over the bench and lets out a tiny sigh of relief, feeling some of the discomfort dissipate from his body.

“Is it just me, or is the vibe kind of… _weird_ in here?”  Leandro tries to ask the question as nonchalantly as possible, spearing a forkful of carrots and peas and gesturing dismissively with it.   Both of his friends immediately grimace.

“Yeeeah, pretty much,” Piper mutters, drawing out the first word bitterly.  “Word got around about what happened in the training room today, and apparently what got around wasn’t exactly in our favor.”  Manny nods silently and picks glumly at his plate of rations.

Leandro slouches backward in his seat.  “Bullshit,” he complains, before sticking the forkful of food into his mouth and chewing angrily.  

The three of them are the only ones sitting at this table, and with the way people are meticulously avoiding them — coupled with how absolutely miserable his friends currently look — there might as well be a localized downpour coming down directly on their heads.  Leandro rocks forward and slaps both of his hands down on their cafeteria table, suddenly determined to find a solution.

“I have an idea!” he declares, and then lowers his voice conspiratorially.  “Why don’t the three of us ditch this place and hit the town tonight? I think we’ve earned ourselves an adventure or two.”

Manny looks at him like he’s lost his mind.  Piper makes a face like they’re about to immediately shoot down his idea, but then they tilt their head to the side and seem to consider it for a few seconds.  “You know what?” They declare, with a half-hearted shrug of their shoulders, “Fuck it. Let’s do it. We’re already on cleaning duty this weekend— what’s another week?”

Leandro points at Piper and nods approvingly.  “ _Muy bien dicho!_ That’s the spirit, Half-Pipes!”  Then he sets his sights on Manny, whose expression is growing more and more doubtful by the second.  “C’mon dude, it’ll be fun! All we’ve done this semester is study, train, or stand around while Iverson yells at us.”  He flaps his other hand around in the air. “Let’s get out of here! Live a little! Plus, Piper already snuck out yesterday night, so—”

Piper turns an interesting shade of scarlet and tries to lunge across the table to cover Leandro’s mouth, but only succeeds in planting their elbow into their own mashed potatoes.  “I didn’t— how did you— will you _keep your voice down?!_ ”

Leandro rests his chin in his hand and tries to take a smug sip of his water.  He immediately chokes on it.

When the resultant coughing fit dies down enough for him to speak again, he clears his throat and tries to regain his dignity before turning back to Piper.  “Saw your foot in the window. You slipped while you were climbing up onto the roof, and I was up late studying for my geography quiz. I doubt anyone else saw you, but I’d recognize those skinny ankles and ridiculous orange sneakers anywhere.”

Piper huffs and crosses their arms.  “Unbelievable.”

Before Leandro can come up with a witty retort, Manny interjects.  “Fine! Fine. _Fine_.  I’ll come with you guys, alright?”  He sighs. “Someone has to make sure the two of you don’t get… I don’t know, arrested.  Or murdered. Or anything like that.”

Both Leandro and Piper turn toward him, bickering all but forgotten, sporting equally devious grins.  Manny groans and buries his face in his hands. “I’m making a huge mistake.”

“No way, Man!”  Leandro shoves his tray aside and leans awkwardly across the table to throw his arms around his friend’s shoulders.  “It’ll be great, trust me!”

“You also said that before you tried Heelying down the hill behind Mrs. Garcia’s house,” Manny mumbles into his hands.

“That was different,” Leandro protests.  “This time, we’ve got a plan.  Right, master escape artist Piper Gunderson?”

“Well… I was just sneaking out onto the roof,” Piper points out.  “If we want to get all the way to the city, then we’d have to borrow one of the hoverbikes from the hangar.”  Before Leandro has the chance to be disappointed, they lean back in their seat and re-adjust their glasses smugly.  “But fortunately, I’ve got a plan for that too.”

Leandro manages to pull off a discreet fist pump, and then slaps their palms together in an elated high-five.  “See?” He pats Manny encouragingly on the back. “Piper’s got a plan. No broken noses this time around.”

Manny finally takes his face out of his hands, looking somewhere in-between amused and exasperated.  “So… what’s the plan, then?”

Piper shakes their head.  “Too many people around right now.  You two live across the hall from each other, right?”  When the two of them nod, Piper looks satisfied. “That makes it easy, then.  Meet me in Manny’s room at thirty minutes past curfew. I’ll explain it there.”

Manny and Leandro exchange confused glances as Piper begins to pack up their stuff.  “Isn’t your room, like… three floors above us, though?” Leandro ventures quizzically.

Piper slings their bag over their shoulder and picks up their tray in one hand, flapping the other one dismissively.  “Don’t worry about that. Leave it to me.”

“Wait, what?  Piper, hold on, _explain what that means_ —”  Piper continues to wave away Manny’s protests as they begin walking away from the table.

“Be careful not to slip again!” Leandro stage-whispers after them.  Piper puts one hand behind their back and flips him the bird without looking.

 

Although sneaking up and down the stairs after curfew can be a challenge, the resident advisors tend to hardly enforce it when it comes to the rooms on their own floors.  Leandro cracks open his door at 22:00, glances up and down the corridor to make sure the coast is clear, then darts across the hallway and unlocks Manny’s door with relatively little difficulty.

“Hey!” Leandro says, closing the door behind him and tossing Manny’s spare set of keys onto his bed.  “Check out my stealth outfit! Pretty snazzy, right?”

Manny, who is sitting cross-legged on the floor and nervously examining the contents of a belt bag, looks up and raises his eyebrows as Leandro proudly motions to the collar of his navy blue turtleneck, then dramatically twirls the hem of a long, olive green duster.  

“Bond-esque,” Manny quips.

Leandro flops onto his friend’s bed.  “Hey dude, Bond’s wardrobe ain’t shit.  It’s the same tuxedo in like… what, three different colors?  Where’s the variety? Where’s the panache?” He shakes his head.  “I’m just saying, Man, James Bond could eat his heart out. But enough about him— is _that_ what you’re wearing?”

Manny stops fiddling with the bag and shrugs, the gesture almost lost beneath the chunky knit of the mustard-colored sweater he’s bundled in.  “Sure. It’s comfortable. Plus, my tina knitted it for me as a going-away present.”

Leandro tilts his head.  “Your…?”

“My aunt.”

He sighs.  “Fine. I respect the lucky sweater, even though I can basically see it from space.  But about that headband—”

“Headband stays,”  Manny says firmly, just as a loud tap comes from the direction of the window.

The two of them nearly jump a foot into the air — Leandro actually lets out a strangled yelp — before Piper’s face drops into view.

“Open the window,” they mouth through the glass, and Manny scrambles to undo the latch.  

Piper drops nimbly into the room, clutching a calculator-sized gadget in their left hand.  They hit a few buttons on the device and the remainder of the rope attached to their waist comes zipping through the window, reattaching itself to their belt.  They stand up straight and dust themselves off, looking very pleased with themself while Leandro and Manny look on in wide-eyed silence.

“You’ve got something on your face,” Manny finally pipes up, pointing at his own nose.

“Oh, right.”  Piper reaches up and rips a wad of tape off the bridge of their glasses, tossing it over their shoulder in the general direction of the wastebasket.

This gets Leandro to speak up as well.  “Did you… _tape your glasses to your face_?  And is that a _bright green_ sweatshirt?  Guys, I thought this was supposed to be a stealth mission!”

“ _You_ try keeping your glasses on your face while you’re upside-down on the side of a building,” Piper retorts. “And I’ve mapped out the blind spots of all the security cameras.  As long as we stay quiet, we’ll be fine. No one’s going to see us.”

Leandro frowns and plucks at the seams of one of his fingerless gloves.  “No appreciation for aesthetic,” he mumbles, then raises his voice again.  “Then what’s the plan here, Pipes?”

“It’s simple,” they say, holding out their device and clicking one of the buttons on the side of it.  A small holographic map of the Galaxy Garrison flickers into existence, hovering a few inches above their hand.

“Woah,” Leandro breathes, impressed.

“What _is_ that?”  Manny asks, inspecting the gadget curiously.

“It’s part of an old raspberry pi, spliced with some old Garrison tech that I got from M— from central command, paired to custom-designed equipment using ultra high frequency radio waves in the ISM band from 2.1 to 2.13 giga-hertz—”

“Oh god, please just explain the plan.”  Leandro cuts them off, waving his hands frantically in front of him.  “Your dessert calculator is very cool, but I’m begging you, _please_ explain the plan before you two go full techno-geek and end up frying my entire brain.”

He sees Piper fight to keep back a smile, lips twitching up slightly at the edges.  “Alright, fine. We need to get to _this_ access panel outside the comm center—” they point to a spot on the map, and a tiny red ‘x’ pops into existence where their finger meets the projection “—so that I can hack into the Garrison’s systems and get us access to one of the hoverbikes.  Then we need to make it down to the kitchen. I can temporarily disable the security system in that room long enough for us to climb out of a window and make it outside. Once we get to the hangar, Manny, we’ll need _you_ to get the bike up and running.  My access will get us out the door once we’re on the thing, but we won’t actually have the physical key.  So you’ll have to work your mechanic magic on it.” Manny nods affirmatively, and Piper continues. “Once that’s done, Manny will hide under the dashboard and I’ll hide back in the cargo pocket.  Leandro will hop in the driver’s seat and fly us out of there. As soon as we hit the desert, it should be smooth sailing all the way to New Arusia.”

Leandro lets out a low whistle.  “Sounds like a solid plan.”

“Whose clearance are we using to access the hoverbike?”  Manny asks curiously.

Piper waves their hand over the device and dismisses the hologram.  “Iverson’s. Obviously.”

Manny lets out a snort while Leandro holds his hand up for a high-five, which Piper accepts with a wicked grin.  

“So then… are we ready to pull this off?”  Leandro poses the question cautiously, reaching down to fiddle with the flight goggles dangling around his neck.  

Piper nods.  “Born ready.”

“We’re going to get in _so_ much trouble if we get caught,” Manny groans.

“Then we won’t get caught!”  Leandro slings an arm around his friend’s broad shoulders.  “Besides. It’ll make for a pretty killer story someday.”

Manny shakes his head and fails to hide a small, fond smile.  “You’re ridiculous,” he sighs.

“That I am.  Now, let’s do this.”

 

* * *

 

 The halls of the Galaxy Garrison are somewhat eerie at night: completely deserted and lit only by the muted blue glow of the overhead lights.

Piper leads them on a winding path through the corridors, avoiding the security cameras but turning the familiar hallways into a labyrinth that Leandro finds himself completely lost in.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” he hisses, which earns him a stern shushing from both Manny and Piper.  Piper pulls up the holographic map on their mutant raspberry pi, consults it for several seconds, runs a quick glance along the edge of the ceiling against the far wall, and then beckons them all forward.

After a while, Leandro can hear a couple of voices murmuring faintly in the distance.  A faint light emanates from around the edge of the corridor, and Piper puts up a hand for them to stop.

“The comm center is down the hall to the left,” they whisper over their shoulder. “The access panel is up on this wall, right before you turn the corner.  Leandro, you keep watch while I sniff the system and get us access. Manny, you should spot me.”

The boys nod silently.  “You got this, Half-Pipe,” Leandro murmurs, clapping them on the shoulder as he moves ahead.  He peeks cautiously around the corner just as Manny reaches the access panel and begins quietly unscrewing it.

Every second that ticks by feels like an hour.  Leandro feels a bead of sweat slip down his temple as he stares at the steel doors to the comm center, heart leaping into his throat every time a stray voice reaches his ears.

“Almost done,” Piper whispers, and he shoots them a quick thumbs up without taking his eyes off the doors.  For a second, some of the tension leaves his shoulders; he lets himself believe that the three of them might make it to the hangar without any major complications.

“Oh _shit_ ,” he hears Piper suddenly say.  Before he even has time to turn and ask what the problem is, Manny’s arm is around his waist and yanking him away from the wall.  “Get back!”

The sharp whip crack of electricity echoes down the corridor, followed by a hissing shower of sparks that rains from the open access panel like fourth of July fireworks.  The three of them stand rooted to the spot, watching wide-eyed as a few final embers float to the floor and fizzle out in the dead silence of the aftermath.

“The good news is that I got access to the bikes,” Piper whispers.  “The bad news—”

All of them jump as the door in the other hallway slams open.  “What the hell was that?!” An authoritative voice sounds like it’s moving steadily toward the three of them, which sends a bolt of ice shooting up Leandro’s spine.  “I’ll take this hallway, you get the other one. Find out what made that noise!”

The hallway is too long to run down without anyone seeing them.  Leandro glances down and sees the access panel, still clenched tightly in Manny’s white-knuckled grip, and grabs the side of his friend’s sweater, motioning frantically for him to put it back on the wall.  Manny’s expression goes from alarmed to categorically panicked, and he lunges forward to fumble the panel back into place as quietly as he can. Leandro is halfway through replacing the first screw when a figure rounds the corner, silhouetted in the lights of the comm center.

 

Sergeant Alexandre Santos spends several seconds silently taking in the scene before him.

The three cadets are frozen like deer in headlights.  Piper is plastered against the far wall of the corridor like they’re trying to get as far away from the situation as possible.  Manny is still holding the access panel in place, mouth opening and closing like an extremely distraught fish. Leandro is caught between failing to hide the screwdriver behind his back and attempting to tighten one of the screws with his fingers.

Alexandre’s face goes from complete confusion to slowly dawning comprehension.  Then it changes to exasperation mixed with some poorly concealed amusement.

“Find anything?” A gruff voice echoes from somewhere back down the hall.

“Access panel over here is secure,” Alexandre calls back, maintaining unwavering eye contact with the three cadets.  “Might have been some mice chewing through the wires. Keep searching and report back here in ten minutes with whatever you find.”

“Roger that, Sergeant Santos,” the voice responds.  The sound of footsteps receding down the other hallway reaches their ears, and Leandro, Manny, and Piper all let out the collective breaths they’ve been holding.

Alexandre crosses his arms.  “So. Care to explain what you’re doing here, exactly?”

Manny, Piper, and Leandro exchange apprehensive glances with each other and remain silent.

“I heard that Iverson chewed out a group of cadets this afternoon for breaking equipment and using excessive force during training,” Alexandre presses.  “That group wouldn’t happened to have been you three, by any chance?”

“It wasn’t excessive—”

“They were dragging Piper by the _hair_ —”

“He was just trying to help—”

Alexandre puts his hands up in surrender as Piper and Leandro immediately start to talk over each other.  “Stop, stop, stop. I believe you already, please spare me the lecture.”

“You believe us?”  Manny asks, doubt etched across his face.

Alexandre looks faintly amused.  “You’re an engineer, Manny. Piper is part of the communications division.  And according to his file, Leandro is much more adept at ranged combat than at hand-to-hand.  So I’m sure that the three of you would be a force to be reckoned with in a fight, but I _highly_ doubt that you’re running around using ‘excessive force’ against your fellow cadets during training.”  He shrugs. “So yes, I believe you. But then there’s the issue of this whole… thing you’ve got going on here.”  He gestures at the dismantled access panel. “Is this about getting back at Iverson, then?”

“... No,” Leandro says hesitantly.  “We were just… upset, after this afternoon.  The other cadets were all avoiding us. So we decided to borrow one of the hoverbikes and pay a visit to New Arusia, for a change of scenery and stuff.”  

“And you needed an access code,” Alexandre concludes, adjusting his glasses bemusedly.  He stares absently at the panel still in Manny’s grip, lost in thought for a few seconds.  

Finally, he shakes his head and lets out a long sigh.  “You know, I used to do that all the time back when I was a cadet.  I had a friend who’d swipe his dad’s security badge so we could ‘borrow’ the hoverbikes.”  He cracks a half-smile and nods at the access panel. “Did you get what you came for?”

Piper hesitates for a second.  “Yeah. We did,” they reply at last, somewhat sheepishly.

Alexandre rolls his eyes.  “The Garrison and its bullshit cybersecurity will be the death of me.  I’ll be notifying the higher-ups that we _desperately_ need to update our security measures, so don’t expect this particular method to work again.”  

Still muttering a few choice words about the Garrison and general incompetency, Alexandre reaches down and unclips a handheld two-way radio from his belt.  After fiddling with the dials for a few seconds, he seems satisfied with his handiwork and holds the device out to the three of them. “I’ll be checking in periodically throughout the night,” he explains calmly.  “You have twenty minutes to make it out of the hangar. There’s a shortcut across from the janitor’s closet; the password for the door today is 65628. Be back at least an hour before morning roll call.”

Leandro, Manny, and Piper all stare silently at the radio, too dumbfounded to form coherent sentences.

“And if at any point I call you and you don’t pick up,” Alexandre warns, “Then there will be hell to pay.  Am I understood?”

An enormous grins slowly creeps onto Leandro’s face.  “Yes sir. Clear as crystal, sir,” he says, taking the outstretched radio and tucking it safely into his jacket pocket.

Alexandre nods agreeably, although the twinkle in his eyes is downright mischievous.  “If you’ll excuse me, then, I have some mice to go find. Have a good night.” He expertly schools his expression into one of placid indifference, then continues past them down the corridor.

The three cadets stand there in stunned silence for a few seconds.

“Did that _actually_ just happen?”  Manny finally asks, in a tone of voice that borders on slightly hysterical.

Piper is the first one to regain their composure.  “Less talking, more moving!” They push past Leandro to begin tightening the screws along the top of the access panel.

The three of them manage to get the panel replaced in record time.  Then they take off down the corridor with Piper leading the charge, bathed in the flickering glow of their holographic map.  They sprint past the silent cafeteria, the empty training room, and the darkened windows of Iverson’s office, bearing left down a fork in the hallway.

“Turn right here!”  Piper hisses, and the three of them skid haphazardly around a corner— right into a dead end.

Leandro nearly panics for a second, but Piper elbows him out of the way and runs over to the nearest door to their left.  They punch in a few numbers — Leandro recognizes it as the five-number code that Alexandre had given them earlier — and throw open the exit, letting the cool night air flood the empty hallway.

“Go, go, go!” they whisper urgently, as Manny and Leandro leap out into the placid stillness of the desert.

 The three of them book it across the sand towards the hangar. “Why do you think Sergeant Santos let us go?” Piper pants, no longer whispering now that they’ve left the silent hallways of the Garrison behind.

“He’s always liked the two of you,” Manny points out.  “He even mentioned that he’d read Leo’s file.”

“Might have wanted to check it out because Iverson told him I was a ‘problem student’ or something,” Leandro suggests, doing air quotes with one hand.

“I’m sure he likes you too, Manny,” Piper reassures their friend.

“ _Es obvio_ , everyone likes Manny."  Leandro gives Manny a friendly punch in the shoulder.  Manny’s face blushes scarlet as he looks slightly flustered by the compliment.

When the three of them reach the hangar doors, Piper steps forward once again.  “This should only take a sec,” they say. They punch something into their embellished raspberry pi and hold it up to the scanner.  After a few nerve-racking seconds, the scanner beeps and flashes green as the door swings open.

“Alright!” Leandro cheers quietly, stepping into the hangar and keeping his voice at a slightly stealthy volume. “Which one of these bad boys do we pick?”

“They all look the same.”  Piper pokes one of the nearby hoverbikes and squints at it.

“Almost, but not exactly,” says Leandro, walking past them towards an identical-looking bike. “Scouting models and distance models have slightly different serial numbers.”  He inspects the undercarriage of the hoverbike for a moment. “This one's distance,” he reports. “Are we good with this one?”

Piper shrugs. “Fine by me.”  

Manny reaches into his bag and pulls out a wrench and a pair of pliers.  “ _Please_ warn me if someone’s coming,” he says nervously, then walks past Leandro and clambers up into the driver’s seat of the bike.

Leandro and Piper stand on either side of the nose of the bike, keeping watch.

“Can Manny pull this off?” Piper whispers, keeping their voice low enough that their friend won’t hear it.

“For sure,” Leandro nods.  “He used to hotwire my cousin’s motorbike all the time so we could drive to the agro for papayas.  I know this is slightly different, but I think it should be similar enough.”

Piper looks confused. “I thought Manny lived up in Vallejo?”

“He moved there when he was fifteen,” Leandro explains. “Before that, he lived in my neighborhood back in Cárdenas.  His family used to move around a lot because one of his moms was active military, so we first met back when we were about ten years old— but we were pretty much inseparable up until he had to leave.”  He smiles wistfully. “We kept in touch after that, but we didn’t actually see each other in person again until we both enrolled in the Garrison.”

“Got it!”  Manny’s head pops up over the windshield as he waves his wrench enthusiastically.

Leandro grins broadly and punches the air in celebration.  “Nice, Man! Now let’s start this bad boy up and blow this popsicle stand!”   

Manny beams at him and ducks back below the dashboard.

“I’ll go crawl into the cargo pocket,” Piper sighs, but shoots Leandro a genuine smile before they begin scrambling up the back of the bike.

Leandro vaults over the driver’s side door, jacket flapping dramatically behind him, and lands squarely in the front seat.  Manny holds up two red and green wires from where he’s crammed beneath the dashboard. “Touch these together and it should start right up.  And _please_ hurry, because it totally sucks down here.”

“Roger that.”  Leandro takes the wires and holds them in position.  “You ready, Pipes?” he calls over his shoulder. “How are you doing back there?”

“ _Peachy_ ,” Piper calls back dryly, their voice slightly muffled.

“We’ll be out of here in a sec, don’t you worry.”  He touches the ends of the wires together. There’s a tiny crackle of electricity as a charge jumps between them, then a steady rumble as the engine roars to life.   Leandro snaps his flight goggles over his eyes, shoots Manny a thumbs up, and then steps on the gas, slowly guiding the bike out of the hangar.

As they approach the guard station by the bay doors, Leandro rummages around in the glove compartment and removes the spare helmet, quickly pulling it over his head.  “Here goes nothing,” he murmurs to Manny, then steers the bike up alongside the window of the sallow-faced officer currently on guard duty.

“State your business,” the man drawls in a voice that could not possibly suggest less interest in the situation.  Leandro takes this as a good sign.

“Supply run to New Arusia,” he says, lowering his voice to make it sound as gruff and authoritative as possible.  “We have clearance.”

The man turns to a screen next to him and begins punching something in.  Leandro can practically feel everyone in the hoverbike holding their breath— himself included.  The pregnant pause makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“You’re cleared,” the officer finally declares, waving them on through.  

Leandro attentively salutes the man, being careful not to let his elation show on his face.  Then he guns the bike and sends it sailing out into the desert night, steadily picking up speed.

As the lights of the Garrison recede into the distance behind them, Manny extracts himself from the space beneath the dashboard and sits up on the passenger’s side of the seat.  “We did it!” he shouts, trying to give Leandro a clumsy side hug without interrupting his steering.

“Fuck _yes_ we did!”  Piper throws open the cargo pocket lid with a bang.  They crawl forward along the back of the hoverbike, grabbing onto the back of the seat to keep their balance.  “That was awesome!”

“And it was all thanks to my style, charm, and amazing piloting skills,” Leandro brags, puffing out his chest.  Then he winks at his friends. “And Manny’s top-notch engineering and Piper’s genius hacker skills, of course.”

Piper looks mockingly offended.  Manny can’t even wipe the smile off his face, and just continues grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh!  I almost forgot.”  Leandro digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out the radio.  “Breaker one-nine, this is sharpshooter. Got your ears on? Over.”

Static crackles over the line for several seconds.  When Sergeant Santos’s voice finally comes through the radio, he sounds faintly amused.  “Affirmative, sharpshooter. What’s your twenty? Over.”

“Off base and approaching destination,” Leandro answers, whipping the bike around a sand dune.  “Over.”

“Roger that.  Stay safe, you guys.  I’ll check back in shortly.  Over and out.”

Leandro switches off the radio and tucks it back into his pocket, then grins mischievously at Manny and Piper.  “Bet you I can get us to the city before next check-in.”

“Oh no,” says Manny, at the same time that Piper yells, “You’re on!”

Leandro yanks back the throttle and sends the bike rocketing forward.

The three of them fly through the vast, starry emptiness of the desert night, whooping and laughing and yelling together as they skim across the shimmering sand, until they veer around the edge of a sand dune and the massive skyline of New Arusia finally comes into sight.

“Woah,” Manny breathes, eyes going wide.

“I’ve only ever seen it in pictures,” Leandro agrees, and takes his eyes off the windshield to gawk at the glowing cityscape spreading across the horizon.

They all stare in silence as the flickering mass of lights before them gradually coalesces into the imposing silhouettes of what must be thousands of buildings, all of different shapes and sizes.

“Are you guys ready?” Leandro asks his friends as the hoverbike steadily closes the distance between them and the edge of the city.

“Born ready,” Piper replies, blowing their windswept hair out of their face.

“Let’s do this,” Manny says.  His smile is equal parts nervous and excited as he reaches back to tighten his headband.

 

The transition from the desert to the streets of New Arusia is as abrupt as the feeling of jumping into a pool on a hot summer day.  One minute the air around them is cool, quiet, and lit only by starlight; the next it’s full of dazzling neon lights and the endless noise of the metropolitan cityscape.

Leandro glances over his shoulder and sees Piper climbing up the back of the hoverbike to get a better view of their surroundings, the brightly lit signs of the shops and restaurants bathing their wonderstruck face in a soft magenta glow.  He lets out a laugh that’s lost to the rushing wind, then digs into his pocket for the radio.

“Breaker one-nine, this is sharpshooter!”  Leandro expertly swerves around a white stretch limousine with tinted windows.  “We’ve reached our destination, over!”

“Ten-four, sharpshooter.  I was just about to contact you.”  Santos’s voice crackles in over the line.  “And ten-one, it’s a little loud on your end.  If you’re looking for a place to haunt, Sky’s Diner on Third and West Altea used to be a favorite of mine. I’ll check back in once you’re somewhere quieter.”

“Roger that, Agent A. Over and out.” Leandro shuts off the radio and glances over his right shoulder. “Hang on tight, Half-Pipe!” He hangs a sharp right onto West Altea Drive.

They’ve made it a few blocks when Piper suddenly shouts from the back of the bike.  "Wait!"  They scramble down from their vantage point and inch their way back toward the front seat, slapping Leandro on the shoulder to get his attention.  “Wait, I just saw something! Slow down!”

Leandro eases off the gas until the bike is cruising slowly down the boulevard.  They’ve left behind the crowded city center and main streets by this point; the metropolitan soundscape is a distant echo, and they’re alone except for a few insects buzzing through the streetlights.

“What?  What’d you see?”  Manny squints nervously through the windshield at the sidewalk to their right.

“I think it was a person?  But they were walking… weirdly.  Like they were hurt, or something.”

“What’d they look like?”  Leandro asks curiously.

“I'm not sure.  They were wearing some kind of hooded cape or something.”

Leandro starts to pull the bike over to the side of the road.  ”Let’s check it out.”

“Hey— Leo?  I kind of feel like following a random stranger down a deserted street is… maybe a bad idea.”  Manny is still staring anxiously out the windshield. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Leandro hesitates.  “Well… we’d be following them at a distance,” he finally says, curiosity winning out in the end.  “So if anything seems too sketchy, we can get out of there quickly. And if you’re really freaked out, Man, you could always just stay here with the bike.  If you want.”

“Alone?!”

“I’m going with Leo,” Piper declares, as Leandro brings the hoverbike to a stop at the side of the road.  They slide down the side of the vehicle and land nimbly on the cement. “I want to find out what that person’s deal is.”

“Up to you, dude.”  Leandro shrugs in Manny’s direction and then climbs over the driver’s side door.  “We’ll be back in fifteen minutes, tops.” He drops down next to Piper on the ground

The two of them dash across the sidewalk, hiding themselves behind a large rosebush growing along the side of a white brick building.  Piper peers cautiously around the edge of the foliage.

“I see them!” they hiss almost immediately, elbowing Leandro in the side.  He bats Piper’s elbow away and peeks over the top of the bush, squinting roughly in the direction they’re pointing.

In the distance — about two blocks away from them — he can make out a grey-cloaked figure limping slowly down the sidewalk.  They’re weaving from side to side as if drunk, but they seem to stumble forward every few feet and catch themselves, making slow but steady progress down the street.

Leandro ducks back below the bush.  “I don’t know what’s up with them, but they’re not going anywhere fast,” he observes.  “I vote we hang back and then follow at a distance.”

“Hold on!  Wait for me!”  Both Leandro and Piper nearly jump a foot into the air as Manny comes jogging up behind them, dropping into a crouch beside the rosebush.  “What’s going on? What’s the plan?”

Leandro finds his voice first.  “ _Mierda,_ Manny!  You scared us half to death!”

“Sorry,” his friend says sheepishly.

Leandro waves the apology away and holds out his hand for fist bump, quickly regaining his composure.  “The plan, my esteemed colleagues, is to follow the target at a distance,” he explains, now doing his best secret agent impression. “That way we can investigate covertly if the target makes contact with an associate, or travels to a secure location.”

“What’s HQ’s policy on the use of violence, Agent Martinez?”  Piper asks, also in their best secret agent impression.

He slips an energy pistol out of the holster on his right thigh and cocks it dramatically.  “Only in self-defense, Agent Gunderson."

“Wait, no, hold on _._  You have a _gun_?!”  Manny’s eyes nearly pop out of his head in alarm.  “I thought those holsters were just for decoration!  Did you steal that from the Garrison?!”

“Technically, no.  I won it in a card game.  Off of Officer Daniels.”

“He just _gave_ you his pistol?!”

“He was very drunk.”

Manny narrows his eyes at Piper.  “Did _you_ know about this?”

Piper shrugs.  “I saw it happen.  I snuck into that Thanksgiving party, too.  Besides,” they add, waving their raspberry pi in the air, “This baby doubles as a taser.”

Manny puts his head in his hands, letting out a muffled groan.  “This is going to go _so bad._ ”

“We’ll be fine, Man.  You’ve been saying that all night, and we’ve made it out okay so far, haven’t we?”  Leandro pats his friend on the back reassuringly. Then he peeks around the edge of the rosebush.  “I think we’d better get going,” he whispers over his shoulder, then moves out onto the sidewalk with Piper following close behind.

Manny takes a few deep breaths, crouching behind the rosebush and staring up at the few stars that are visible beyond the skyscrapers.  Then he reaches into his bag and pulls out a sturdy wrench, taps it a few times against his palm, and follows them.

They stealth silently behind the figure for a couple of blocks, when Leandro suddenly stops in his tracks.  “Wait.  Look at the back of their cloak,” he whispers, squinting off into the distance.  “Does that… does that look at all like the Garrison’s insignia to you?”

“Holy shit,” Piper breathes, eyes going wide.

“Do you think it’s someone from the base?” Manny whispers nervously.

Piper shakes their head, still staring at the back of the cloak.  “The Garrison wouldn’t send a lone officer on a supply run down a deserted street.”  They glance up at Leandro. “Something about this feels… off.”

“Yeah,” Leandro agrees.  “But now we  _have_ to figure out what’s going on.”

Ahead of them, the figure pauses on their unsteady journey down the street.  They slowly tilt their head back, seemingly to look at a large neon sign mounted above the sidewalk.  Then they stumble to their right, into a seemingly empty parking lot.

“Sky’s Diner,” Leandro hisses, reading the words on the sign out loud as the three of them sneak around the building closest to the lot.  “That’s where Sergeant Santos told us we should go!”

“Could this be like… a setup, then?” Manny ventures anxiously.

“Seems like a really roundabout way to set us up,” Piper says doubtfully, as Leandro peers around the corner of the building.

The lights are still on in the windows of the diner.  The figure stumbles toward the comforting golden glow— but then they stop, slowly turning their head toward the shadows on the other side of the parking lot.

“Show yourself.”

The voice is deep and authoritative, but hoarse with disuse.  For a second, Leandro assumes that they’re speaking to him, and the blood his veins turns to ice.  However, the shadows on the edge of the lot begin to slowly congeal into an imposing, humanoid figure.

“Commander.” A man steps out of the darkness, adjusting the cuffs on a three-piece suit that appears to fit perfectly, despite his impossibly muscled body.  “I’m thrilled to see that our paths have crossed once again.”

The cloaked figure hesitates for a second, then pulls back their hood.  Leandro has the presence of mind to clap a hand over both his and Piper’s mouths, stifling the shocked gasps that escape unbidden from their throats.

“Is that…?” Manny’s voice trails off in astonishment, staring at the familiar face.

“Commander Asahi Morishige,” Leandro finishes, because Piper has gone as pale and silent as death.  “Lost to space two years ago, along with the rest of the Kerberos crew. Presumed dead.”

The three of them have heard that exact phrase repeated countless times over the past two years.  Yet the strong jawline, sculpted nose, and kind eyes of Commander Mori are unmistakable, despite the new scar across the bridge of his nose and the shock of white in his dark hair.

“You’ll be coming with us now,” the man in the suit says in a voice that drips with false cordiality, taking a step towards him.

Something at the commander’s side flashes, beginning to glow a deep, vibrant purple.  He steps back into a defensive position and drops the rest of his cloak, revealing the object to be a sleek prosthetic arm, with metal plating that glints in the moonlight overhead.  All of the unsteadiness from his earlier walk down the boulevard has disappeared. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mori replies in a dangerously level voice.

“Come on, now.  Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”  The man spreads his hands beseechingly, as the shadows around him congeal into two more imposing figures.  Then another, and another, until there are seven impossibly brawny individuals now standing in the once-empty parking lot.  They leer down at Mori, blocking out the familiar light from the diner windows.

“L-Leo?”  Leandro can feel Manny’s trembling hand on his shoulder.  “What are we going to do?”

One of the men, near the edge of the group, steps forward and raises his arm to take a swing at Mori.  

In the blink of an eye, Mori has his arms wrapped around the man’s neck in a nasty-looking chokehold.  He uses his momentum to whip his legs around and kick the woman next to him in the side of the head, dropping her instantly.  Then he clenches his metal fist and hammers it back into the first man’s face, knocking him to the ground as well.  Without missing a beat, Mori spins around and slashes at the man in the suit with his prosthetic arm.  He just barely manages to block the attack, giving his other gang members the split-second opening they'd needed to grab Mori’s arms and hold him firmly in place.  One drops down onto the asphalt and holds his legs down as well.

“We have to do something!”  Piper whispers urgently, teetering on the edge of panic, but Leandro continues to stare wide-eyed at the scene unfolding before him.

The man in the suit reaches into his breast pocket and produces a small, wallet-sized object.  “Sorry about this,” he says apologetically, before jamming the device into Mori’s torso and setting off a horrible series of electrical crackles that echoes throughout the parking lot.  

Piper lets out an abbreviated scream, drowned out by the terrible sound of the electricity and muffled by Manny pulling them into a comforting hug, which hides their face in his shoulder.  Mori doesn’t make a single sound— just sags limply in his captors’ grip after the device is removed.

“We’re doing something,” Leandro decides, and steps out from behind the edge of the building.

He draws his pistol from its holster, cocks it, and fires two shots at the people holding Mori’s arms, in one fluid motion.  One beam of energy sizzles against the forearm of a tall, dark-haired woman, causing her to scream and release her grip. The other hits a man with a terrible blond buzz cut squarely in the shoulder, knocking him backward to the ground.

“Manny, grab the commander!”  Leandro yells, taking aim for another shot.  “Piper, fuck their shit up!”

Piper darts past him in a blur of green and slams their makeshift taser directly into the face of the man Mori had knocked down earlier, who’d been starting to get back to his feet.  Manny runs past and shoulder checks one of the goons out of the way — surprisingly successfully, considering the difference in size between the two of them — and barrels towards Mori’s crumpled body.

Leandro spots the man in the suit reaching for his breast pocket again and fires a shot into the back of his hand. The man howls in pain and wheels around to face one of his subordinates, a look of absolute fury on his face. “Call for reinforcements!” he roars.

“Shit,” Leandro hisses, taking another shot. “Manny!”

His friend has managed to make it to Mori’s side, and he looks up as he loops the commander’s arm over his shoulders. “What’s going on?” he shouts back.

“We need to get out of here!  I’ll cover you!”

Manny grimaces and uses his free hand to smack a wrench into the forehead of a woman who tries to take a swing at him.  “I’ll do my best!” he yells, and Leandro can see the determination on his face but hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“ _Hijo de puta, esto no es bueno!”_ Leandro grits his teeth and leaps into the fray.  He pistol whips a man across the face, ducks under a punch that just barely grazes his left temple, and sprints toward Manny and Mori.  “Piper!” he yells desperately.

“Working on it!” they yell back, as Leandro reaches his friend and loops Mori’s other arm over his shoulder.

“ _Mierda, mierda, mierda!”_ he pants, taking another shot with his pistol that goes wide.  “We need to get out of here _now_ , I should have brought the hoverbi—”

He’s interrupted by the deafening roar of a vehicle engine.  The parking lot is suddenly flooded with light as a bright red hoverbike comes careening around the corner, skidding into the parking lot and slamming into one of the gang members with a sickening crunch.  The driver of the bike wastes no time in vaulting over the windshield and sliding down the hood of the vehicle.  They land in a cat-like crouch and pull a long, jagged knife from a sheath on their hip.

For the second time tonight, Leandro is at a loss for words.

“Who _is_ that?” Manny stares confusedly at the newcomer. Their face is obscured by a pair of orange-tinted flight goggles and a red bandana covering their nose and mouth, but their jet black hair is pulled back into a ponytail.  “What the fuck is going on?”

Leandro finally finds his voice.  “That’s Akira.”

“What?!” Now Manny is staring at his best friend.  “You mean like... _Garrison_ Akira?  The one who dropped out two years ago?   _That_ Akira?”

He nods wordlessly.  

“Are you sure?”

Leandro pulls down his own goggles as a grin slowly spreads across his face.  “I’d know that ponytail _anywhere_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing everyone’s beloved Adam as Sergeant Alexandre Santos: resident vodka uncle and potential agent of chaos. Also introducing Takashi Shirogane as Commander Asahi Morishige, a man who adamantly refuses to die despite the universe’s best efforts. And last but not least, Keith Kogane as Akira Kyeong: an adrenaline junkie on a bike.
> 
> Allura and Coran will appear next chapter for sure. Sorry about that, I made the classic mistake of underestimating my exposition.
> 
> UPDATE 7/14/2019: Haven't given up on this, most of the next part is written.


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